


White Noise

by MsSalahlah



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Interracial Relationship, Light Angst, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-20 07:22:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13712745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsSalahlah/pseuds/MsSalahlah
Summary: [S12 before Reid goes to Prison.] He had fallen asleep. She had told him she would be out in two minutes and by the time she had returned he had fallen asleep. What does one do with one fast asleep Spencer Reid? She wondered idly as she took a seat across from him.





	1. First

He had fallen asleep. She had told him she would be out in two minutes and by the time she had returned he had fallen asleep. She contemplated waking him up by 'accidentally' banging pots and pans together. Her dilemma increased when she saw Spencer slowly sliding along the sofa, his head going to hit the wooden arm-rest of the sofa.

She cursed under her breath as she rushed to stuff a pillow under his head before it hit the wood.

Was she to allow him to crash at her place? She didn't  _really_  know him that well. Well she  _was_  going to let him spend the night... only she had not imagined the night to go like this. A snort escaped her. _Oh well_ , she thought as she went to tend to the teapot she could hear almost boiling over in the kitchen, _might as well let him catch up on his sleep_. He did look at peace... She thought about how not less than five hours ago she had been outside Penelope's friend and colleague, David Rossi's home, whom she had met earlier that evening, arguing with her friend about the awful man she had set her up with earlier that week. And now another strange man was in her house sleeping on her sofa. Funny how things work out.

_ **Five Hours Ago** _

"You set me up—,"

"Okay can you please stop acting as if I set you up to get you killed?"

"—with that weird ass self-absorbed—,"

"Okay, okay! But I promise this next time—,"

"And he would not stop— _next time?_ —there will be no next—,"

"—trust me, he is so cute and sweet, you will—,"

"—I thought you were setting me up with that Spanish guy—,"

"—and I was—what? Spanish? No, no, that's not going to work out."

"—Why won't it work out? What did you—" But Anna could not complete what she was about to say for the door swung open startling them into silence. They had been standing in front of Penelope's friend and colleague David Rossi's house arguing when the door swung upon.

"Hello?" An old man—Anna assumed was David Rossi—said.

"Hello," said Anna, alarmed at the sudden interruption.

"Hi," Penelope said, also feeling Anna's alarm and possibly even embarrassment.

"Hi?" The old man said again.

"Hello," Penelope whispered again.

"You said that already, Penelope. Come in," an old man said to them, with a smile and a twinkle in his eyes. 

"Hi, yes, yes, let's go in— I'm just—how much of our argument did you hear?" Penelope asked entering with Anna in tow.

"I seemed to have only missed the ending," The man—David—said. Penelope groaned as she shrugged out of her coat.

"Well, this—this is my friend Anna," Penelope waited as Anna removed her coat and turned to Rossi to greet him. She gave Penelope's friend an uneasy smile knowing that he had just witnessed an embarrassing fight between her and Penelope a second ago. 

"Hi, I'm David Rossi. Pleasure to meet you."

"Hello," Anna said smiling politely and shaking the hand he had offered. The bell rang causing Rossi to excuse himself.

"Oh look who made it," Penelope said dryly, causing Anna to raise her eyebrows questioningly. Penelope was never less than a ray of asphyxiating sunlight about people and greeting people in general. The less than enthusiastic response from her had surprised Anna causing her to curiously see who had come in.

"Nice to see you too, Penelope," the man who had entered said with a roll of his eyes, but Anna had spotted the hint of a smile beneath it.  _Oh my_ , Anna thought to herself. 

"It's Garcia, to you!" Penelope said, not entirely unkindly. "Anyway, meet my friend Anna."

"Let's all move to the garden, shall we? We've got the dinner all laid out," they all heard Rossi say from behind.

"Hello," the man who had entered a few minutes ago said, his eyes suddenly much dimmer—Anna noted interested— as he turned to greet Anna, "I'm Luke Alvez."

"You're... You're Luke Alvez?" Anna asked, letting out a snort of disbelief, and her eyes widening with surprise.

"Yeah, is something the matter?"

"No," Anna said realization dawning on her, "Not at all," she said resolutely as her eyes began searching for Penelope who had fast disappeared towards the garden, listening all too well to Rossi's instructions, after introducing them. "Excuse me," Anna said as she walked forward faster but soon lost the confident swagger as she entered the garden and a hoard of unknown people who had all stopped what they were doing to stare at her. Most of them were White but she had spotted two black people too, and plus Luke seemed like he was Latino, she all in all four people of colour, not bad she thought. Made her feel a little safe.

"Um," she said awkwardly, fighting the urge to bite her lip or tug at her hair, "Hello," she managed to mutter. Penelope waved her over.

"Hey guys, this is my friend Anna. Anna, all of these people here are my world," Penelope announced proudly and Anna had to fight the feeling of envy that flooded. All of her family, all of her world was back home, and she was in this strange country—but wasn't this why Penelope had invited her here? So she could stop feeling so miserable and homesick and meet some new people? Anna smiled nervously at everyone and fought the instinct to bow in greeting.

"Hello," she said again as she walked towards Penelope and the White blonde woman she was speaking to.

"This is JJ, and her husband and kids…," Penelope began introducing everyone and Anna felt she could not remember anybody's name except for the first woman she had been introduced to for her baby was so adorable that Anna could not help but ask to hold him. His name was Michael and he was the most precious baby—until he started tugging painfully at Anna's hair, after which she had been glad to return the toddler to his mother. Anna had caught Penelope in a small argument with Luke and was reminded of why she had come into the garden in the first place.

"Penelope," Anna said in a sing-song manner, "a word, please?"

"What is it?" Penelope asked, her eyes flitting towards where Luke was standing laughing at a story someone, whose name Anna could not remember, was telling.

"Luke Alvez," said Anna dragging her eyes away from him to give her friend a meaningful look. 

"Yes?" Penelope blinked. 

" _He's_  Luke Alvez." Anna jerked her head in his direction. 

"Yes…? If there is a point can you please make it before we become fossils?"

"Fine. _You_ like him," said Anna in an accusatory tone. 

"What? No!" said Penelope with her face crumpled up in a frown and a huff of exasperation escaping her mouth. 

"Yes. Which is why you didn't set me up with him, which is why," Anna said but her eyes snagged on something behind Penelope, "Oh my god. He likes you too!" exclaimed Anna seeing the curious looks Luke Alvez kept throwing their way.

"And this is why you didn't set me up with him, because—,"

"SPENCER," Penelope shouted, interrupting Anna and walking hurriedly towards the dinner table taking a seat after hugging a strange man, "Oh you sweet boy, you're here, finally. Come meet my friend, Anna."

Anna was forced to look away and greet the person Penelope had called out to. He gave her a perfunctory awkward smile and if Anna didn't know better she would have taken offense. But she didn't for she was still distracted by her friend's sudden evasion. She begrudgingly took a seat across from Penelope seeing as her friend had pushed her in the direction of the stranger. Anna gave her a 'We're not done talking about this ' look which Penelope pointedly ignored. 

"Hi," The White man named Spencer said as he took a seat next to her. "I'm Spencer Reid."

"Sorry, what?" asked Anna, confused. 

"Spencer Reid," the man said again, his eyes squinting.

"I'm—," began Anna but was cut off by the man. 

"Anna, I heard," Reid said, nodding at Penelope who was engrossed in a conversation with the blond White woman from earlier...JJ, was it? Anna wasn't sure. "How do you know Penelope?"

The man asked.

"Mutual friends," Anna said quickly, not sure if Penelope had wanted to reveal to her friends and colleagues that she had brought someone she had befriended when both of them were drunk out of their minds at a random club. Mutual friends was a safe place to locate one's friendship temporarily, Anna decided.

"So, Anna, what work do you do?" The black woman—Tara—who was seated next to her, asked her.

"I work as a translator and an editor."

"Oh, what languages?"

"I translate Korean prose and poetry to English for my publishing house while working as an editor there."

"Sounds interesting," said Tara, cupping her chin with a palm.

"Yeah, it is good work. What exactly do you guys do? Penelope wouldn't tell me. Asked me to ask you directly," asked Anna serving herself some pasta.

"Well, we work for the Behaviour Analysis Unit of FBI and we catch criminals—serial killers mainly—by studying their behaviour," Tara answered.

Anna felt her eyes widen with admiration and astonishment. "Wow, I did not know that. Does that really work?"

"Yes…," The woman said.

"All of you do that?" Anna looked around the table, some were busy with their conversations and had not followed her conversation but Spencer next to her had for he said,

"Yes, we're all Behaviour Analysts."

"How long have you been working?" asked Anna, turning to Spencer.

"13 years," he said without missing a beat. 

"You never got tired of it?" asked Anna but she was interrupted by someone. 

"Uncle Spencer," a voice interrupted—Henry's, "can you show us your magic tricks?"

"Only if you finish your greens," his mom said, giving Spencer a meaningful look.

"Yes, if you eat your greens, I will," Spencer promised him.

The little boy whined loudly at that, his eyes falling on Anna. She raised her eyebrows and gestured at his food. 

"Eat your greens," she said. She resisted glaring as she would have done with her own cousins back home. Here they had different ideas about raising kids. Not good or bad, just different.

"Where are you from?" The boy asked, instead, taking Anna by surprise.

"I'm from—," Anna began but paused as she suddenly sensed everybody at the table had gone silent, presumably curious themselves. Why hadn't they asked? She wondered. "India," she completed and could swear a sense of satisfaction had come over the adults at the table of having been fed the information they had been so politely pretending they were not curious about.

"You know magic?" Anna asked Spencer after a while. 

"It's just science," Penelope chimed in.

"Science is magic," Spencer argued.

"Well I'd love to see some," Anna said. "If and when Henry finishes his greens, of course," she added with good measure, earning a smile Spencer and Henry's mother. Once dinner was done, Penelope, Anna and Henry were pulled aside by Spencer who asked them to pick cards and pulling pennies from behind everyone's ears. Anna decided she had had fun at the party. Everybody was nice and kind and she had fun talking to Spencer who was a bit of a Know-It-All but not the way men usually were. More in a naïve childlike need to tell the facts.

She was impressed and kind of secretly miffed at how good he was with tongue twisters, something she had considered her specialty. "Okay, okay, so can you say this," she began with an evil smile, "nega kheurin kheurim mot kheurin khereumigu neega kheurin kherim chal kherin kherim-ida."

And lo behold the bastard repeated it perfectly much to Anna's frustration.

"Don't let him get to you," the dark haired-white woman, called Emily, said to her, "he's insufferable with his eidetic memory and IQ of 187."

Anna gaped. "Y-you have an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory! That's unfair. You've been practically cheating the entire time."

Spencer only shrugged, unabashed. When it was time to go, they were reluctant to separate.

"It was nice meeting you," he said, smiling softly and shyly. And though his eyes flitted nervously from her fa face to the floor, Anna noticed them to be light brown in shade when they rested on hers. He also had long eyelashes, Anna noted, from under which he would shoot her nervous looks, though he was much taller than her. He was so pretty. 

"Yeah, it was," Anna smiled.

"Ya know," Penelope declared in an exasperated fashion, "she does live a block away. Perhaps someone could walk her home."

Anna felt her face heat up in embarrassment at the very loud and transparent suggestion. Spencer looked twice as embarrassed with the way his face had turned beetroot red.

"Um, is it alright if I—," he asked, awkwardly, "If you don't mind—,"

"Yes, please. But are you sure you're not too tired?" Anna asked, nervously tucking her hair behind her ears.

"I'm fine," Spencer had declared and they had talked the entire way of random things and when they had reached the bottom of the Anna's building it of course only felt natural to invite him upstairs. It would be against the rules of decorum and propriety after all to let him go like that. He had walked her home after all. An entire block.

She had sat him down and put the tea to boil—because she didn't drink coffee and thus didn't have any to serve either—and returned only to find him asleep on her sofa.

What does one do with one fast asleep Spencer Reid? She wondered idly as she took a seat across from him.


	2. 2

How was one to deal with a sleeping Spencer Reid?

One was to do nothing and just let him sleep. That is what Anna did and had expected to find him gone in the morning but to her surprise…and awkwardness…he had stayed. Perhaps because he was still asleep. Anna glanced at the clock. It was 6 in the morning, so in his defense  _it was too early_ but also he went to sleep at 12 so perhaps spending the night for six hours on a  _sofa_ was more than a human body could take on an average. Anna wondered if he had some super human physical powers he possessed that she wasn't aware of, apart from the intellectual powers he possessed. Feeling generous, she decided to let him sleep for a little longer. Although the generosity lasted for only six minutes.

Ten minutes past six and Anna was already tapping her foot impatiently and deciding that banging those pots she had abstained from yester night, would not be a bad idea to put to practice today. Anna went into the kitchen determinedly, picked up two of her biggest pans before setting them down—they were new and she did not want to ruin them—and instead took out old pots she was glad she had not thrown away. As she walked into the living room, prepared to wake up the nasty still-asleep White boy, she heard a noise which almost startled her to death.

It was Spencer. Of course he had decided to wake up in the thirty seconds she had taken to choose the pots and re-enter the room. "What are you doing?" he had said, the surprise of it causing Anna to let out a shriek before breaking into an embarrassed chuckle when she realized it was just Spencer.

"Are you alright?" he asked, standing up to his full height. His hair was standing up in different directions in a funny way and he was still squinting, not having woken up entirely.

"Yes, I am," Anna said, giving him an embarrassed smile.

"What are you doing? What are the pots for?" he asked, frowning.

"Um—," she couldn't think of anything plausible, "Nothing at all. You sleep well?" asked Anna quickly. Her hands felt suddenly heavy under the weight of the utensils so she decided to go back to the kitchen to put them back, ignoring the heavy feeling of stupidity washing over her.

When she returned, she saw Spencer had neatly folded the blanket she had covered him in last night, with the pillow on top and was sitting on the sofa. "I'm sorry I fell asleep."

"That's alright...I usually can't stay awake past 11 myself," Anna said taking a seat next to him, "Are you feeling okay?" she asked as Spencer began to rub his eyes vigorously.

" _Oye_ ," Anna admonished, slapping him lightly on his shoulder before she realised what she was doing, causing Spencer to pause and take a peek at her. She shot him an apologetic and embarrassed look before asking, "Something wrong?"

"I forgot my glasses and my lenses seem to have run dry."

"Do you have your lens box?"

"Yes...," he said hesitantly, "but I don't have my glasses."

"Oh, umm why don't you remove your lenses and allow them to rehydrate...," Anna stood up, her eyes searching for something, "... What did you say your power was?"

"My power?"

"Your eyesight power."

"Oh... It's -13.5."

"Oh my god, that's terrible. I have .25, you could borrow my glasses... But I don't think it'll help you much. Do you need to be anywhere soon?"

"No."

"Hmm, is that right?" Anna said. "Maybe, we can take advantage of your bad eyesight."

She sat down at the arm of the sofa and leaned towards Spencer, raising her eyebrows suggestively. He only looked at her blankly.

"Take out your lenses, Spencer." Anna cupped his face planted a small kiss on his mouth. "And we can think of things to do."

"Oh," Spencer said, realization dawning on him.

"Oh, indeed."

"But I should brush my teeth first," he said, standing up abruptly. Anna could not help the chuckle that escape her.

"Don't let me stop you," Anna said showing him to the bathroom. "Want a spare toothbrush?"

"Yes, please," he said, with a shy smile. As he looked at the mirror, Anna saw his smile fade and he touched his hair self-consciously. She opened the bathroom cabinet and handed him a toothbrush and pointed at the toothpaste before she made to leave.

"Thank you," he said as he closed the door behind her.

When he came out after ten minutes, his eyes searched the room nervously and he tucked his hair behind his ears. "You alright?" asked Anna, her eyebrows raised.

"Yes," he said, crossing the room and sitting on the sofa next to Anna. "Would you like to watch TV?" asked Anna, hoping to make him comfortable.

"No," he said with a conviction that surprised Anna.

"Good," Anna said, smiling as she put her arms around him and kissed him. His arms had come up to brush against her shoulders, her neck, her hair, her face. He peppered her face and neck with kisses and Anna could not help the giggle that escaped her. Spencer was smiling too. Soon Anna was straddling his lap, pulling away only when she felt Spencer's insistent hands on her shirt and helped him take her shirt off. She tugged at Spencer's dress shirt and unbuttoned it to reveal a white undershirt beneath it.

"Whoa," she gasped when she felt sudden cold air hit her chest. When had he removed her bra? "Boy, you got some skills," she muttered in surprise, making Spencer chuckle, before helping her remove his undershirt.

Anna felt his hand at her waist, skimming her back and felt herself shudder. He paused. "You alright?"

"Y-yes," breathed Anna.

Spencer removed his hands and move them to her hips. "I can feel you," he said, softly. "What's wrong?"

She felt Spencer watching her carefully but couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze. What would he understand and what could she tell?

"When you stand in front of me and look at me, what do you know of the griefs that are in me and what do I know of yours. And if I were to cast myself down before you and weep and tell you, what more would you know about me than you know about Hell when someone tells you it is hot and dreadful?" she recited Kafka's words quietly before meeting his gaze coolly. Maybe she shouldn't have said it, maybe she should have just shrugged, or just let him do it, maybe she should have—

"For that reason alone we human beings ought to stand before one another as reverently, as reflectively, as lovingly, as we would before the entrance to Hell," he completed as quietly as she had, and Anna felt impossibly weak and exposed with surprise, warmth and shock. Could he have understood? Could he have—Anna's train of thought was disrupted as she felt Spencer move. What was he doing?

Anna watched, curious, as he took her hand which was propped up on his shoulder, cupping her palm with his' and pressing it against her breast. Anna let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding in. Spencer was watching her carefully too, she realised and she met his gaze defiantly and challenged him to judge her but he only smiled sweetly. Who the hell was this boy again?

Spencer squeezed the hand that was holding Anna's and her breast. "Better?" he asked. "Loads," Anna sighed, kissing his mouth. "What do you think of going to the bedroom?"

"Yes," Spencer said and Anna was surprised when he leaned forward to plant an open kiss above her breast, as if making a promise of all the good things to come.

* * *

"Do you have any siblings?" Anna asked,

shifting to lie on her side, tucking her palms underneath her cheek. It was two hours later after they had had sex three times, and Anna had been secretly surprised at how much stamina Spencer had and how good he was at it. She'd thought he'd give up.

"No," Spencer said, mimicking her position.

"Neither do I," said she. "How was it growing up? Graduating so early…," her voice trailed off as she saw the light from Spencer's eyes dim a little and his mouth pull together a slightly. He seemed…

"Confusing. I was always younger than everyone," he said. "How was growing up for you? When did you come to the US?"

"Three years ago," Anna said, watching the way the sadness from his face had crept out to be replaced with curiosity. "Growing up was good. I had a lot of friends. Have," she said, smiling faintly. She thought of Ruth and Jae-eun, of friends she had made and lost growing up.

"Even here?"

"I think I have more Indian friends here than I did back home," Anna said, with a snort. "I was too shy to make friends back home."

"Did you know that according to a 2015 study there's 2.5 million Indian Americans in America?"

Anna let out a snort of disbelief. "And how do you know that? You just randomly memorized articles—oh, wait, you have an eidetic memory, I forgot, sorry. How nice, I wish I had eidetic memory too so I could memorize all of my favourite novels and poetry."

Spencer smiled faintly. "What is your favourite novel?"

"I'm not sure," Anna said frowning, "What's yours?"

" _The Narrative of John Smith_ ," he said quietly and his voice was again much sadder and heavier than before.

"I have never heard of it. Who is it by?"

"Sir Arthur Conan Doyle."

Anna wrinkled her nose immediately.

"I don't like him. I've never liked Sherlock either," Anna said quietly. Whatever she had said seemed to have shocked him out of his sadness for his eyes widened, "you don't like Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's works? That's—I've never met anyone who hasn't."

"Okay first of all 'sir'?" Anna rolled her eyes, "how bourgeois and feudal."

"What! No, that's not what it means, that's just—,"

"Yeah I'm sure," Anna said exasperatedly. "I don't like him, I don't like him," Anna chanted as Spencer unsuccessfully tried to counter Anna's dislike for Arthur Conan Doyle with a list of his achievements.

"How did you know? Before," Anna asked softly, her eyes trained on Spencer's arm spread between the two of them, once they had settled their argument.

"I felt you stiffen."

"Hmm, were you disappointed you could not…"

"I didn't want—,"

"Were you?" Anna pressed, interrupting.

"Yes," he said truthfully.

"I—I won't apologise," Anna said.

"As you shouldn't."

"But perhaps maybe later... When we're better acquainted? You could... And I wouldn't."

"Okay," Spencer smiled softly, "It's alright. Whenever you want," Spencer reached out and with a thumb tugged at the bottom lip Anna did not knew she was chewing up nervously.

Anna gave him a small smile. "You don't want to know why... That happened?"

"Do you want to tell me?"

"No," Anna said closing her eyes, "Not today."

He watched as Anna's breathing steadied and she fell into deep sleep. She lay curled up on her side of the bed, a flimsy tank top and her penguin pyjamas. She was snoring softly. Her palm was curled up in a fist with her thumb neatly tucked inside.  _Sensitive, anxious, introverted but extroverted—_ Spencer stopped, he tried not to read but the signs were everywhere and he couldn't not read her though he tried his best to not invade her privacy. He tried focusing his thoughts on other things.

Spencer wondered if he should leave before she woke up or not. He didn't know what the protocol was. He was getting a bit hungry and wished to get a bite to eat before heading home. He curled on his side and watched as Anna turned to lay on her stomach. He wondered what she was dreaming of, with her fist clenched and her mouth hung open.

He closed his eyes, opening them with a start at the sudden noise coming from the kitchen. He turned his head to see the space next to him was empty. Had something happened? Was Anna in trouble? Had they gotten to her? Had Scratch perhaps targeted her? His gun was in the front room and he wondered how he was going to get to it. He looked at his phone lying next to him and quickly picked it up to call Emily when he noticed the time. It was 1 in the afternoon. He had fallen asleep? For five hours? Had he been drugged?

Spencer's frown receded as he heard faint singing from the kitchen. A woman's voice…Anna? Spencer went to enquire, his hands numb with cold and fear as he slowly entered the front room. He was greeted with the surprised smile of Anna who had just caught him entering.

"Hey sleepy head," She seemed distractedly as she was moving some toast from the toaster to the plates placed on the small dining table.

"I fell asleep?"

"Yeah," Anna smiled, beckoning him. "What would you like your bread with? Butter? Jam?"

A phone rang—hers. She sighed as she looked at the screen. "I have to take this. Do you mind?" she gestured to the pan where eggs were frying. "Spencer?"

Spencer, whose brain was still hazy from the fresh bout of sleep he had just had, found himself giving Anna an apologetic look, "Sorry, yeah."

"I'm sorry, my editor's crazy. I've got to look over a few posters. It won't take too long, I promise," Anna brought out her small laptop on the dining table.

"The jam is in the fridge and the butter too," she said distractedly as she began working.

"What are you working on?" he asked curiously as he dragged his chair closer to hers after he had served them with eggs and toast.

"We're publishing Sijo poetry, which is a—,"

"Korean verse form, similar but actually older than haiku," Spencer recited with practised precision, "I know what it is."

Anna raised her eyebrows and nodded, "So we're doing a translation of modern Korean sijo poetry and a companion with critical essays. We're doing a book launch on Wednesday and we're sending out posters and flyers. I just have to over the new ones to check for errors."

Spencer nodded thoughtfully as he dug into his toast. "What are your plans for today?" She asked.

"Nothing, actually…," he said hesitantly, but Anna didn't catch onto it as she enthusiastically said, "Oh good, there's this concert going on in public park—,"

"But I need to get home," Spencer interrupted, apologetically, "I have some work to get to."

"Oh," Anna said, visibly disappointed. "That's alright."

They ate the rest of their brunch in silence, with Anna chewing on her bottom lip in equal intervals, until Spencer got up to leave.

"I had a good time," he said. They were standing at the door.

"Me too," Anna smiled.

Spencer bent down and kissed her. "Call me," she said softly as he made to leave.

* * *

"JJ, can I speak to you?"

"Spence," JJ grinned and walking to his desk, "Of course, you can. How was your date with Anna?" JJ leaned against his desk to get a proper look at him.

"It was—it was great."

"You seem surprised," JJ said, searching his face. "Wasn't expecting it?"

"She's different than I thought she would be…," his voice trailed off as he seemed to be lost in a memory.

"Good different though, right?" JJ asked and Spencer did not miss the hint of concern in her voice.

"Of course," he smiled easily. "I was supposed to call her. How—how long do you think I should wait till I do?"

JJ gave an excited smile as she glanced at his phone. "So you like her?"

"Yes, I think so," Spencer said, smiling shyly. "

"You—Spencer Reid, I have been waiting for you," They heard someone call from behind and turned to find Garcia walking into office.

"But you've just come in," Spencer said, confused.

"To call me," Garcia completed with a flourish before an evil smirk spread over her face. "Soo," she wiggled her eyebrows, "tell me everything that happened between Anna and you."

"Actually I was just telling JJ," Spencer glanced at JJ meaningfully, "That it went well…and when do you think I should call her."

"Ah, the eternal burning question, lover boy. Well, US Weekly says you should call after three days, and Vogue says, you should definitely only send a text after two days. But I think you should follow your heart," Garcia said. JJ giggled at her friend and colleague's take on dating.

"So…call her right now?" Spencer guessed, unsure of where Garcia was leading him.

"Only if the heart is saying wait for two days."

"So, Vogue?" JJ asked, her eyebrows raised and her eyes shining with laughter. Penelope shrugged. "I suppose," she smiled coyly at her friend before turning her gaze to Spencer.

"You know, there  _is_ a book launch she had invited me to on Wednesday, if you wanted to come," Penelope said, evidently making an effort to sound casual and not push her friend into anything. "If you want to, of course. But it's understandable if you feel you have somewhere else to be and find this going too qui—," Penelope began muttering and while JJ was enjoying watching their friend getting flustered, Spencer made an effort to be kinder and stopped with a, "I—let me think about it?" to which Penelope happily nodded and made her way to the office.

"We have a case debriefing in two," she called out over her shoulder.

* * *

He had not called.

He had not called. He had not called!? Anna could not believe this was happening. "I can't believe he's not calling," Anna whined as she slammed the mouse of her computer hard against the desk, startling her friend and colleague Jae-eun.

"That white boy?" asked Jae-eun, eyeing her foul disposition with displeasure.

"Yeah," said Anna, feeling grumpy. "He hasn't—he hasn't called yet."

"Didn't you see him only yesterday?" she asked.

"Yeah," Anna said, "and he hasn't called  _yet_. I had said  _call me_. I had  _clearly_ said call me."

"Well, it's  _only_  been a day. You do know about the three-day rule, right?"

"Yeah but he's not following that…is he?"

"Only way to find out," Jae-eun said. Anna frowned.

"You don't mean to say I should  _wait_  f—,"

"What are you guys talking about? Discussing the new project, I hope?" Jane, their editor-in-chief asked coming in. She would often do that seeing as Jae-eun and Anna were always speaking in Koran and she had no way of knowing what exactly they were talking about.

"Yeah, of course," Jae-eun lied easily. Anna followed just as easily, nodding as she gestured at her computer which showed the Korean poetry pieces they were editing at the moment.

"Good to know," Jane said with a tight smile before leaving.

"She's crazy," Anna said quietly in Korean.

"Yep," Jae-eun agreed. "But I think you should wait. For two days."

"I hate waiting."

"I know."

"Also I think our editor-in-chief is still outside our cabin."

"Yep."

"Crazy."

"Yep."

* * *

 

"You came!" Anna squealed with happiness as she moved to hug Penelope and Tara. It was Wednesday, and the day of her book launch.  She had invited Penelope  _last week_ and having had encouraged to bring her friends too when she came she was glad to see Tara. But that was not all of whom she had brought along. 

"And I brought someone," Penelope announced, and Anna watched curiously as Penelope and Tara moved out of the way, parting like the sea at Moses' command and instead of divinity stood the devil himself—Spencer Reid, Anna thought to herself while making a small side note to go easy on the biblical texts in the future. But, returning to the reference, it was devil who had not called her. And it was Wednesday. She hadn't known if he was following the three-day rule or if he had just lost interest, making the last three, or rather two and a half days of her life _torturous_.  He had no right standing there looking all stupid and cute and wonderful. Anna gritted her teeth but forced herself to be polite. Was that not an important tenet of adulthood? 

"Oh, hello," Anna said with an awkward smile, and she saw the shy smile Spencer had been giving her turn into a frown. She forced herself to ignore it and turned to speak to them as a group, missing the looks of concern Tara and Penelope had exchanged with each other.

"You've come just when the book launch ended and the party began," Anna comment shrewdly, pursuing her lips before breaking into a smile, "right on time for the alcohol."

"Yes!" Penelope squealed excitedly. "Excuse me as I check out the bar," she said, immediately turning to Tara to say, "you coming?" who nodded eagerly and followed her blonde friend, leaving Anna and Spencer alone in each other's company. 

 _Subtle_ , Anna thought dryly.

"Penelope invited me, I hope that's okay," Spencer said shyly, tuck his hair behind his ear.

"Yeah," Anna gave a forced smile, tracking the motion. "Did you get the work done?" she asked, hoping the bitterness in her voice went undetected. It wasn't. When Spencer looked confused, she elaborated, "the work you had to do the other day."

"Yes, yes I did," Spencer said, pressing his lips into a thin line and glanced down, apologetic. Anna felt like she was admonishing a child.

"Good," Anna said as she thought bitterly,  _What kind of a person leaves after having sex like—like that with the poetry and that—that—ineffable beautiful bullshit and—and the—laying down and talking like that it was so rude and what did he think—_

They walked quietly to towards Penelope and Tara who were excitedly chatting about something, or pretending to. When they spotted Anna and Spencer, they waved them over. 

"We're thinking of getting some dinner after, do you want to come?" Tara asked, oblivious to the growing tension between Spencer and Anna.

"Yeah, alright, let me just get my editor-in-chief drunk so she doesn't notice I'm gone," Anna said conspiratorially, her eyes already searching—and spotting—the woman in question.

"Jane," she called out and quickly motioned Penelope, Tara and Spencer to follow her. "Meet my friends,"

"Hi, I'm Tara," Tara said extending a hand, "And these are my friends Penelope and Spencer." While they exchanged greetings, Anna curiously noticed how Spencer had his hands at his side and only smiled, choosing to not shake Jane's hand, the latter had also been surprised and had taken effort to conceal it. But Jane soon found her attention taken over by Tara who was asking her about the anthology.

"I am sorry, for leaving the way I did," Spencer said quietly, turning to Anna. Anna chose to stubbornly stare in front of her, at the ongoing conversation between Tara and Jane. Where had Penelope gone? Anna could faintly remember Penelope having excused herself to go to the bathroom. "I really did have some work to get to," she heard Spencer say.

"Okay," Anna said, sparing him a look from the corner of her eye. "What was it, may I ask?"

"I—I had to go see my mother…," she heard Spencer say hesitantly. Anna found herself turning to look at him with a frown. "Is she—is she okay?" Anna asked.

"Yeah, she….is….," Spencer said carefully, his eyes not meeting Anna's, but instead fixed on an imaginary faraway point. "She will be," he said with a tight smile as if that was the last he would say on the matter. Anna nodded.

"Well, apology accepted," she said, a bit begrudgingly, but also relieved for she had imagined the worst. That she had not been good enough—that she had not been  _interesting_ enough—that he had not wanted to meet again—that he had—well, she had imagined the worst.

"Would you like to go out again?"

"Out?" Anna smirked. "Like last time?" She could not help but let out a bark of laughter at the way Spencer's ears turned red.

"No," he said quickly, "or maybe after…?" he added, frowning thoughtfully.

"After?" Anna gasped, in a mock-horrified look.

"Or maybe not…," he said softly, trailing off. Anna smiled, biting the inside of her cheek. She was slightly annoyed at how…clumsily adorable he was... or was he just  _that_  smooth? Anna could not be sure.

"Let's start with dinner, yeah?" She said, amused. Spencer gave her a quick nod.

"Saturday?" he asked.

"Can't wait to see me?" Anna asked with a snort.

"Sorry what?" Spencer was frowning.

"Huh?"

"Y-You I think you just spoke in Korean."

"Oh, I didn't notice."

"So what did you say?"

"Nothing."

"You said,  _kheurokhe bogo sippo nal_ ," Spencer recited perfectly. When Anna's jaw dropped in amazement, he only shrugged and said, "Eidetic memory."

"Wow. You still pronounce it like a White boy, though," Anna said, pursing her lips and shrugging her shoulders in return, shooting him a mischievous smile at which Spencer only rolled his eyes.

"So, we're meeting Saturday?" he pressed again.

"Yeah, sure."

"Okay, I think we've managed to get her sufficiently, drunk," Penelope said, putting her arms around Spencer's and Anna's shoulders. "I think we should get out of here."

"I know a good Indian place, right around the corner," Penelope announced, gesturing for Tara to follow them.

"Ugh, no," Anna groaned, shooting a look of distress at her friend. Spencer shot her a look of curiosity but she did not find it in herself to elaborate. And she did not need to, for he saw it himself.

* * *

"Oohlala, I love this deliciousness," Penelope said.

"I want something exotic like…what is this?" She pointed at a food item on the menu.

"Penelope, it says Butter-chicken," said Anna with an incredulous look. "It's in  _English_."

"Yeah, but what  _kind_ is it?" asked Penelope. Anna huffed with annoyance. Penelope  _always_ did this no matter how many times they came to the same restaurant and ordered the same thing.

"It might be too spicy for you. You could try the palak paneer," Anna offered, impatiently tapping her foot.

"No, I had that the last time…is there something else that is not… not too spicy or too bland…," Penelope trailed off as her eyes scanned the menu.

"Please get her some water," Anna said, reaching the end of her patience. Spencer and Tara let out a snort of laughter at Anna's comment but Penelope only glared at her friend.

"Ha-ha, very funny."

"Why did we come here if you can't eat anything?" Anna asked, frustrated. 

"Why don't I order something for the both of you?" Tara suggested, seeing how agitated Anna was getting by Penelope. 

"Okay and oh, oh! We should definitely go for dessert at this  _other_  place that's around the corner," Penelope said. Anna was about to protest but she stopped when she saw how enthusiastic Spencer was. He seemed to have a sweet tooth, for she heard him say happily, "I would like a hot chocolate," as he rubbed his eyes.

"Not get enough sleep?" Tara asked. Anna noticed she looked concerned…even Penelope did. Was something the matter with Spencer? Was it an unusual experience...? Or perhaps related to work?

"Yeah, but I'm fine. Just been busy these days," he said, and he looked up noticing the concerned eyes. "I'm _fine_ ," he reiterated.

"Okay," Tara said, as she called for the waiter and gave the order. They spent the dinner recounting stories from cases and their childhoods.

"Once Spencer fooled this serial killer with his magic tricks," Penelope boasted. Anna's eyes widened with interest.

"Really?" Anna asked, impressed.

Spencer only shrugged, visibly embarrassed. "There was this cult—," Penelope began, "Actually it was a schizophrenic—," Spencer tried to cut in but Penelope ignored him and continued speaking, "And he thought the government had inserted chips inside his body and we had to perform this fake operation and we didn't know  _how_  but thankfully our one brilliant Spencer Reid was good with the sleight of hand and he did it—and voila! It was done."

"Were you not scared?" asked Anna.

"I was. But there was nothing else to do," said Spencer. Anna nodded thoughtfully.

"But it went fine," he added. "Everything went well."

Anna smiled. "I'm glad it did."

After their dinner, they decided to go to the sweet shop and Anna decided it was the perfect opportunity to annoy Penelope.

"What do you want?" her friend asked.

"Something exotic…," she mimicked Penelope's voice, scanning the menu and her eyes seemed to have settled on something, "like pancakes, is what you call it yeah?"

"Okay, I do not sound like that," Penelope said with a mock-serious expression, while Tara and Spencer laughed.

"Sound like what?"

"You do have an American accent," Tara noted, "But you choose not to speak in it?" she ventured, careful. Anna nodded.

"Yeah, I just feel more comfortable speaking the way I do right now," she said self-consciously, taking a peek at Spencer who was only listening to their conversation curiously. Did he think her weird? She wasn't sure. "Also, I have a bet with my friend Jae-eun, we work together…"

"Oh, I think Jane introduced me to her," Tara said. "The South Korean woman—,"

"Yeah, yeah!" Anna said excitedly. "She needed to go somewhere or she would have come with us. She's really fun. You would love her," she said speaking to everyone. "Anyway, Jae-eun and I, we studied together in college, in Seoul and we got this job at Bloomberry together, and we had this," Anna broke off to let out a huff of laughter, " _bet_  to see who can go the longest without using the American accent."

"I see both of you are doing well," Tara said with a smile.

"Yeah, she's got great perseverance. But then, so do I," Anna said, jutting her chin out and breaking into a grin. They ate their desserts over more talk and laughter. When they made to leave, Spencer pulled her aside and said, "It was great meeting you today….And I'm sorry about last time…."

Anna shook her head, smiling. "That's alright. You're already forgiven."

"I'll see you on Saturday?" Spencer asked, again, nervous. Anna nodded. "Yes." And Anna knew she shouldn't do it, perhaps it wouldn't look nice—perhaps it would look like she was rushing things—they had not even gone on a  _proper date_ yet but she couldn't stop herself and she found herself standing up on her toes, straining towards him, and though it took him a moment to realize what was happening and that he had to bend, Anna kissed his mouth softly and then his cheek.

They heard a slow whistle from behind.  _Penelope Garcia,_  Anna thought wryly as she saw the figure of Penelope and Tara grinning at them. "I should probably go," Spencer said, his fingers still lingering on Anna's face—when had he put them there? Anna wondered faintly as she nodded her assent.

"Saturday," she called out—more to herself as Spencer and the other two had already left. Saturday was two whole days away, Anna groaned to herself.

* * *

Spencer entered the restaurant which was packed more than he had imagined it would be. Anna had texted him saying that she was waiting at the bar. He spotted her easily, as she was the only who had their hair open. She was wearing a long blue tunic, Spencer noted. A man sitting next to her was trying to engage her in conversation. From his body posture and Anna's, he could see that the man was flirting but Anna was reluctant, her body turned away from him.

"Oh, it's no problem, thank you…I'm actually waiting for a—," said Anna reluctantly.

"Anna?"

"Spencer," she sounded relieved. She touched his arm and stood on her toes, and Spencer found himself automatically bending towards her, complying to the light press of her palm on his, so she could—kiss his cheek, which made his insides flood with warmth. "Let's go get seated."

Spencer gave this serious look of 'back off' he had seen other alpha males give—mostly Morgan—to other males, to that guy who had been hitting on Anna but the other guy seemed to not even look at him. How was intimidation possible if the guy didn't even look at you? How did they make the guy look at them!?

"It was nice to meet you," the guy called out and Spencer could feel Anna flinch even as she calmly turned to give that man a tight smile as they walked away.

"You okay?" Spencer asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said, as they were seated in an inconspicuous corner of the restaurant. Spencer could not ask more for the waiter came and handed them the menus. After they had each ordered what they wanted, Spencer watched as Anna looked at him with a smile and asked, "How was your day?"

She looked very pretty with her long black hair open, and though her brown eyes were shining, she looked tired. "It was…busy," Spencer said thinking back to his day. He wasn't sure if Anna would be able to take the details of his work. Although Spencer had not spent long in her company, the amount of time he  _had_  spent, had alerted him to the anxious and nervous nature she was hiding underneath her cool and confident exterior. So he thought it wise to not indulge the details of his cases.

"And? Catch any serial killers?" She asked, grinning.

"Almost," he only said. "What about your day? What did you do?"

"It was good. We had this author come in today, god, everybody was  _fawning_  over him, and it was  _embarrassing_ and Jane  _flipped—_ like after he left, she screamed at everyone to maintain their dignity and not make famous authors feel so uncomfortable. Of course  _I_ was exempted."

"You didn't ask for a sign?"

"No, I already took a sign and photo in the parking lot," Anna said. "But Jane doesn't know that," Anna said with a chuckle and even Spencer couldn't help but laugh.

Spencer felt Anna's hand reach for his' and though he had not washed his hands he supposed it would not be polite to pull away from her hold, and he found himself not inclined to pull it away either. To his surprise Anna pulled away and he did not have to wonder why for long when the waiter came by to place their dishes in front of him. Anna had ordered a salad and Spencer had ordered a pasta.

"Spencer, do you want a bite of my salad?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Yeah, okay, is it good?" Spencer asked, surprised at her sudden offer and extended his hand, poised with a fork, to take a bite of her salad.

"Yeah, it's nice," she said indifferently as she nudged her plate towards him, "give me a bite of your food."

Spencer raised an eyebrow. "Did you just offer me your salad because you wanted a bite of my pasta?" he asked as he absently stabbed a cherry tomato.

"No," Anna said. "I wanted to know if you're the kind to eat off of someone's plate and share…and you are that—about which I am very happy to learn," she said, her eyes focused on his plate, as she scooped up an unfair amount, Spencer felt, into a smaller serving plate.

"You took too much," he complained.

"No, I didn't," Anna was already pulling the plate towards her.

"Do you want me to order you—," he began when she waved him off.

"Of course, not. I don't  _want_ to eat it. I just want a taste," Anna said, digging into her portion of  _his_  pasta in a delightful manner. Spencer considered fighting her for his food but decided to give this one time. He did not regret his decision for another ten minutes later and he was already full.

"Would you like to eat mine too?" Spencer asked as he pushed his plate towards her.

"Really? You're full?" Anna asked, eyeing him and his plate with a frown, "but you haven't eaten anything."

"I'm full," he said again. "What—what was that man earlier saying to you?" He could see how Anna tensed at the mention and shot him a displeased look.

"It was nothing…," she said, but his expression must have told her he wanted to know, so she rolled her eyes, giving in but said, "He was pretending I had dropped something to initiate a conversation."

"They've gotten so intelligent," Anna said, "initially, when they used to come up to me, I used to pretend like I didn't know English but now," she threw her hands up in frustration, "now they're all acting like I've dropped something or forgotten something and I can't not respond, I'm telling you, they've gotten smarter."

Spencer smiled sympathetically and learned forward, supporting his head in his left palm. He did not have to ask why she did not just refuse. He had read the reports and knew that 90% of the women were afraid of refusing the advances of a male for fear of violent retaliation. "Have you dated many people?" he asked.

"Dated…yes," Anna said, "But, in a serious relationship only with one person till now." She seemed self-conscious as she said this, Spencer noted. "What about you?"

"Like you," he said. He felt his heart hurt and his body pull in into himself, he could feel a pit opening up inside of him, threatening to swallow him and the entire world. He knew that if he let himself go, the pit of sluggishness would numb the entire world, render it soft and hollow and blurry. He felt something pull him, away from his thoughts, from the pit.

"I knew you were a player," Anna said. She was pressing the palm which lay on the table, leaning forward, in a painful manner. Spencer moved forward, allowing her to hold his hand comfortably. What had she said?

"I meant about dating one person," he clarified, clearing his throat. It felt dry all of a sudden but a sudden moistness also burned his mouth, his eyes, and his heart.

"I know," she said, smiling softly. "What happened?"

He shook his head. It was not dinner conversation. It was not—she was not—no.

"Alright," Anna said, patting his palm. "Want to get dessert? We can have hot chocolate."

"No, I'm alright."

"Okay, let's get the cheque, then, yeah?" Spencer nodded. While they waited for their check, and afterwards Spencer could feel Anna's inquiring and concerned gaze follow him. He pretended not to see it. When they stepped outside, Spencer glanced at the time in his pgone. It was only 9:30p.m.

"Want to go for a walk?" he gestured at the park that was visible from where they were standing at the footpath, having just stepped out of the restaurant. Anna followed his line of sight and then glanced at her watch. "Um, I should get home. I've got to wake up early tomorrow," said Anna, glancing at her feet, and shifting her weight from one foot to another.

"On a Sunday?" asked Spencer, sceptical.

"I—," Anna began but stopped abruptly. "Can you tell when I'm lying?" asked Anna, surprising him. She seemed part-curious and part-annoyed.

"Yes," he said, truthfully. It seemed to satisfy the curiosity but seemed to have only further aggravated her.

"It isn't fair," she sniffed. It wasn't, he agreed. "I—I thought maybe you didn't want to—after what happened inside so I just said it like that," said Anna awkwardly, staring at her feet before she finally looked up at him. "We should go," she said in a firm voice, before he could answer, "Let's go for a walk."

She clasped her hand in his' and started determinedly walking towards the park. "Anna," he said pulling her beside him, when she insisted on walking too fast and in front of him.

"I was overthinking when I shouldn't have," she muttered. "When I used to live in Seoul, I used to go out for walks at night all of the time," she said. She was staring ahead. "It used to be fun. Sometimes my friends and I would go out for midnight beer and chicken. Chimaeg," said Anna quickly. "It used to be so much fun."

As they entered the park, Anna found a park bench to sit down and patted the seat next to her, gesturing for Spencer to take a seat next to her.

"Didn't we come here to walk?" he asked, tentatively sitting down next to her.

"Yes, but I got cramps in my side 'cause I walked too fast," reasoned Anna, as she hitched a leg up to sit facing Spencer. "Did you have fun at University?"

"Not the kind you had…," he said, "I was too young to have alcohol at that point."

Anna let out a snort of laughter. "What kind of a kid were you?"

"I was... Timid. Curious. I was... I really loved to read."

"And did you have any crushes in school?"

"Yes, I... Did," he said. "I got a note from this girl I had a crush on…it asked me to blindfold myself and go to the basketball court…and she was not alone….," his voice trailed off and he did not need to complete for Anna understood the meaning.

"That's terrible, Spencer...," Anna brushed a few strands of his hair away from his face, touching his cheek softly with her fingertips, careful and hesitant. Spencer took her hand in his' and pressed it against his cheek, closing his eyes.

"I'm fine now."

"I know, you are more than fine. You're smart and rich and working at FBI and you have a hot girl you're dating."

Spencer cracked a smile. "Hard to argue with that logic."

He cupped her face gently, his fingertips softly brushing against her cheeks as he pressed soft small kisses against her mouth. Anna sighed into his mouth, running her tongue along his', and she felt herself pushing her body against his', and he seem to have done the same. While one hand caressed her face, the other was wound up around her back, pulling her closer. Her own arms were wound around his neck, fingers running through the back of his hair.

"Want to go back to my place?" Anna asked, pulling away.

"Mm," was all that he said, kissing her again.


	3. 3

“Spencer!” said Anna, surprised.

They hadn't seen each other in two weeks because he had been travelling for a case. He hadn't told her when he would be back and Anna was still confused if it was crossing a line if she texted or called him. They were still only casually dating…kind of…They had not decided if they were boyfriend and girlfriend, that is. And it was killing Anna. When was he planning to ask her? And couldn’t she just ask? But she didn’t want to push him into it…She wanted him to ask…

But he was here now. At her doorstop.  A strong rush of affection flooded her chest.

"I'm sorry I—I should have called," said Spencer, hesitating at the threshold. Anna felt her face split into a grin as she waved his worries off and urged him in.

"No it's O.K., come on in," she held the door open for him to enter. "Would you like a glass of water?" 

"No, that's fine," Spencer said as he collapsed into her sofa. He looked tired and worn out.  

"Are you coming from work?" Anna asked, sitting beside him. She glanced at his clothes. He was wearing a coat, like he always did—which was odd to her but she did not comment. She suddenly felt self-conscious in her pyjamas and shirt. It _was_ past nine.

“From home,” he said. Anna couldn’t help the feeling of disappointment that overcame her but she tried not to show it. It was embarrassing and childish to feel what she was feeling.

"Would you—would you like to watch TV? I can put something on Netflix. We can... Netflix and Chill?" said Anna with a chuckle. 

"Yes, sure."                                                                  

Anna gave a look of amusement at Spencer's polite nonchalant smile. "Netflix and chill?" said Anna again, and when Spencer's face did not change she said, "You don't know what Netflix and Chill is, do you Spencer?" 

"Isn't it watching Netflix and… chilling?" 

Anna let out a snort. "You're worse than I am, babe. I’ll go make us some popcorn. Why don’t you pick something to watch?" said she disappearing into the kitchen. "I have some homemade jam and bread too. Would you like to eat some?" Anna called out. 

"Um, yes, sure," said Spencer.  

"What was that?" called out Anna to which Spencer said, "I said YES SURE.”

"Alright," Anna said. “No need to shout!” She said with a chuckle as she came out with an amused look. Spencer only smiled back.

“Here it is.” Anna said handing him the plate.

“Is it good?”

“Did you bake the bread too?”

“No, just the jam.”

“It’s—it’s good.”

“Right? _And_ it’s really easy to make—”

“It’s really good,” Spencer said taking another bite.

“—a fruit you like, and then put it on the stove—Right?  It’s really good right?” Anna asked again, eagerly.

“Yes,”  he took another bite.

"You called me babe," Spencer said with a small frown. 

"Did I?" 

"Yes."

"Is it OK if I do call you... 'Babe'?" Anna asked, awkwardly. 

"Y-yeah, I suppose so...," he said quietly. 

"Alright then, thank you?" Anna gave out a huff of laughter. 

"What do I call you?" 

"Anna,” she quipped. "Anna is short already." 

"I didn't know that." 

"Yep." 

“What is it?”

Anna sighed. And then: “Annapoornasowhatarewewatching?”

“What?” Spencer asked, frowning. “I didn’t catch that.”

“I said, what are we watching?”

When Spencer gave her a pointed look Anna sighed again. “Must we do this?”

“ _Must_ I know your name? _Yes_ ,” Spencer cried out, a touch of incredulity in his voice.

“I don’t know if you’re learning this sass from me but I don’t really appreciate—,”

“Anna,” Spencer interjected, looking unamused. Anna rolled her eyes but gave in, sullenly as she said, “It’s Annapoorna.”

A pause. And then:

“Like—like the mountain?”

“Yeah,” Anna shrugged. “ _Now_ , may we watch the damn show? What have you decided on?”

“Okay,” Spencer said sceptically. He couldn’t understand what was bothering Anna so much but he could see that he wasn’t going to get anything out of her today. He turned towards the TV and said, “I found this documentary—,”

“A documentary?”

“—and then we can perhaps watch this—,”

“No.”

“—movie about the Stanford Prison Experiment—,”

“No, no.”

“— _or_ , we could watch—,”

“Babe,” Anna interrupted him unable to take anymore, “we’re watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine.”

“I—what’s that?”

“Spencer,” Anna said, her eyes wide. She looked and _felt_ horrified. “You don’t know—you don’t know—I can’t even—let’s just watch it.” She handed him the bowl of popcorn.

“This—this is not popcorn.”

“Yes,” Anna said distractedly, as she put on Brooklyn Nine-Nine, “It’s not _traditional_ popcorn.”

“Is it Indian popcorn?” Spencer asked and Anna shot him a ‘are you serious?’ look to which he only stared back blankly.

“No,” she said forcefully, “it is _not_ Indian popcorn, it’s just called makhani and its high in calcium and it’s _good_ for you. Try it. It’s crunchy like popcorn but _healthy_ ,” she said, urging him to try it. Spencer put one in his mouth sceptically and chewed on it for a frustrating fifteen seconds before he seemed to have come to a conclusion.

“It’s flavourless.” Spencer frowned.

“Yeah, but isn’t that how White people like their food?”

Spencer rolled his eyes, his eyes pulled down in a funny way to show he was not amused but it only made Anna laugh. “Good one, though, right?” she asked.

Spencer ignored her. “Hey, you can take some for your mom, actually,” Anna said, bumping his shoulder with hers’. “You guys can eat it.”

“When we Netflix and Chill?” Spencer joked.

“Babe, no,” Anna shook her head, her eyes shutting close with frustration. “Please stop. You’re _only_ supposed to Netflix and Chill with me, alright?”

Spencer gave her an amused look. “Why?”

“Because if you do it with someone else,” said Anna smiling, tugging at his collar, pulling him closer, and when he closed his eyes expectantly, only looked at him—really looked at him—the way his eyelashes brushed against his cheek, where his dark circles gave way to his cheek bones. Only when he opened his eyes, confused and curious, she deigned herself to press an open-mouth kiss against his mouth and say, “I will kill you.”

Spencer let out a huff of laughter before kissing her. Anna pushed him away. “Now, let me change your life by introducing you to perhaps one of the best American TV shows ever made by white people.” Anna pulled his arm into hers as she put on the first episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine. After ten minutes into the episode and not one laugh or  _smile_ from Spencer Anna could not help but frown. Before she could interrogate him her phone rang from where it was in the other room-and went to fetch it. Seeing from the caller-ID that it was one of those phone companies calling to sell her some internet plans she hung up promptly and made her way to the living room.

When Anna returned she found him fast asleep. She was quick to place a pillow on the armrest but strangely Spencer did not slide down as she had expected. Anti-gravity or just pretending to sleep? Guess he didn't really like Brooklyn Nine Nine. Anna snorted, switching the TV off. "It's okay Spencer, the field's clear. You can open your eyes and stop pretending to be asleep." 

Spencer cracked an eye open. "You could tell?" 

"Uh-huh," Anna said as she put the popcorn bowl back in the kitchen. "I take it you didn't like the show very much?" asked Anna, very much put off by his aversion to the show. 

"I-uh, I though it was fine." 

" _Fine_ ," Anna repeated the offensive word, straddling his lap. He straightened up immediately, alert and excited. "I introduce you to a show that is worthy of an Oscar—they only give it to white folks anyway—and you think it is fine." Anna sat on her shins, her arms around his neck leaning forward to kiss him. She pulled away. “But you didn’t like any of it?”

“Well, I liked the—the plot?” Spencer said, looking sceptical. He brushed the hair off her neck and over her shoulder, pressing a kiss there.

“Right,” Anna sighed as Spencer moved to kiss her neck. Her sigh soon turned into a moan and Spencer thought she was really enjoying it when she let out another moan which sounded more like a groan of pain.

“Are you—are you okay?” he asked, frowning.

"No, can we move this to the bedroom? I feel like I'm going to die," Anna grunted. She gestured at her legs. Although she had been straddling him, she had not been sitting on his lap, but on the back of her calves because of which she was in considerable pain at the moment.

"Yep," said Spencer.  

"This is not as sexy as they make it seem. Why did I do this? And how do I get out of this position? How did I even get here?" Anna started muttering rapidly.

"You could stand on your knees and then put one foot back and then another," Spencer suggested, his hands patting her thighs.

"Okay,” Anna licked lips nervously. She stood on her knees—too fast—and to balance herself, fell forward and holding on to Spencer's shoulders; before Spencer could look away, her chest was pressed against his face. 

"Um," Anna said, her hands gripping his shoulders tightly, enough to leave nail marks she ws sure, but at the moment she couldn’t have cared. Spencer froze. So did Anna. She pulled away, sitting back on her shins. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," Spencer stuttered, his hands drawn back to his side. Anna didn't say anything, choosing to stare at his chest. She could feel her face heat up with embarrassment and she waited for the feelings of shame and horror to wash over her and cripple her with fear but nothing came. She looked up, confused. Spencer, who had been watching her closely all this while, raised his eyebrows inquiringly at her look. 

"I—," Anna began but stopped. She waited for another few seconds to be sure. Still nothing. She took Spencer's hand and placed it on her breast. 

Anna bit her lip. Spencer swallowed, watching her with concern, but also with fascination, with desire. Anna smiled, nodding encouragingly. He squeezed. Anna drew her shoulders in as needle like sensations of pleasure shot through her entire body. Spencer watched with rapture. Anna smiled, moving forward to kiss him. 

"Okay, ow, ow, my legs," Anna said, pulling away. Spencer chuckled. Anna remembered his earlier advice and stood on her knees, relishing in the way his mouth brushed against her breast. She pulled away teasing as she made to stand up. Spencer stood up too, catching Anna against himself when she wobbled, her legs unsteady from the position they had been forced to assume a minute ago. 

Spencer smiled at her as he kissed her. Anna pulled away to take off her shirt and Spencer found himself unhooking her bra and discarding it. He stared at her in awe and fascination for a second before kissing her mouth and his fingers drawing circles on her waist. Spencer drew a line from her mouth to her throat to her chest. Her breath hitched, catching in her throat as she felt shivers of pleasure run down her body. She felt Spencer's warm breath at her breast before it was engulfed in the warm wet heat of his mouth. She let out a breathy moan she knew she would be embarrassed about later. But right now she could not be bothered to care for a Spencer had moved to her other breast and she could feel stars exploding in her vision as she clenched her eyes shut tight. And then it stopped. Spencer had pulled away. She let out a whine of protest and was given a brief kiss on the mouth as compensation. She let out a huff of breath in annoyance. 

"Uh, my neck hurts," he explained. Ah, yes. Height difference. She nodded and pulled him by the hand to the bedroom. There were things to be done immediately and Spencer was wearing too many clothes, Anna noted with displeasure as they entered the bedroom.

 

* * *

In the morning Anna found Spencer sitting cross legged in front of her bookshelves, scouring through them. “Hi,” she said, hugging him from behind and leaning on his back. He bent over from her weight and pushed back, turning his head to the side to smile at her. She pressed a kiss on his head.

“You have a nice collection of books here,” he commented, rifling through a book.

“Nice,” Anna repeated dryly. “Dr Spencer Reid approves?” She rolled her eyes taking a seat next to him. Spencer blushed. “I love that book when I first read it,” she pulled her knees to her chest, gesturing at the book in Spencer’s hands. It was _The Society of the Spectacle_ by Guy Debord. “I thought I had finally _seen_ the world,” she chuckled. Spencer smiled and turned to the book. 

“But for the present age, which prefers the sign to the thing signified, the copy to the original, representation to reality, appearance to essence . . . truth is considered profane, and only illusion is sacred. Sacredness is in fact held to be enhanced in proportion as truth decreases and illusion increases, so that the highest degree of illusion comes to be the highest degree of sacredness, Feuerbach from Preface to the second edition of _The Essence of Christianity_ ,” Spencer read.

“I used to love his works..,” Spencer said as if it was the most obvious thing, “Did you know that Feuerbach was a 19th century German philosopher and _also_ someone Marx critiqued in his _Theses on Feuerbach_ and influenced him immensely. His work, _The Essence of Christianity_ in 1841 was considered by Engels, as a mark of the end of the period of classical German philosophy that had begun sixty years earlier with the appearance of Kant’s _Critique of Pure Reason_. I wrote a paper on it.”

Anna raised her eyebrows in surprise, impressed. “Wow, babe. You really are a genius.”

Spencer blushed. “Actually, I have a BA in Philosophy…”

“I thought you had a BA in Sociology and Psychology

Spencer shrugged. “Unbelievable,” Anna accused. “You’ve got three PhDs and three B.A.s? You do realize you can try for World Domination right?”

“I think I’ll pass,” Spencer gave a wistful smile.  “Though I did hope to cure schizophrenia by the time I was 23. Too late for that.”

 “Babe, how old are you?”

“I’m 36.”

Anna’s eyes widened.  “I thought you were 30,” Anna frowned.

“You thought we were the same age?”  

Anna gave him an unamused look, frowning hard. “I’m not thirty! I’m 26, how _dare_ you? This face doesn’t look a day over 20 and you know it!”

Spencer raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips. “You’re 26?” Spencer asked, visibly surprised.

“Am I being Cat-Personed right now?” Anna muttered to herself, a horrified expression painted on her face.

“What?”                                                                                       

Anna shook her head. “Babe, you’re like a _decade_ older than I am. How does it feel dating someone so young and fresh?”

“I—,” Spencer stammered, suddenly nervous.

“Hey babe, I’m kidding,” Anna said when she saw Spencer’s ears turn red. “I like older men,” she said, batting her eyes in an exaggerated manner, prompting Spencer to let out a chuckle of relief. “I’m kidding I don’t. I just like you.”

Spencer rolled his eyes but blushed. “I thought you were thirty,” he repeated.

“I know, I have the maturity and grace of a person much older.”

Spencer frowned. “Actually,” he began, and then looked at her like something just dawned on him, “it makes so much sense now. I did think you were a bit immature and disorganized but I thought maybe that’s just the kind of person you are…and your personality does make sense for someone your age. The way you talk and organize your apartment. How could I not see it? And especially the way you’ve organized your closet and bathr—,”

“Babe,” Anna interrupted his rambling, unamused at the fact that he was doing a behavioural analysis of her.

“Yeah?” Spencer looked at her from where his eyes had been surveying her apartment.

“Shut up before I kill you.”

“And the language! And the emoticons!” Spencer gestured at her as if he was having a Eureka! Moment.

“Hey, I’m not the grandpa dating someone ten years younger than them, okay!” Anna cried out, annoyed. Spencer only shrugged his shoulders, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Anna narrowed her eyes. He knew how to rile her up. “Now can you please move so I can do my yoga?” she patted his shoulders, urging him to get up.

 

* * *

 

 

“What’s up? How was your weekend? We missed you at the park yesterday.”

“It was good, I spent the evening with my mom…she’s doing well,” said Spencer.

“Okay, good to know. I’ll bring the kids around this week. It’s been a long time since I’ve visited her,” JJ smiled.

 “Yeah, that would be nice…,” Spencer trailed off, his eyes searching for JJ’s.

“Is something the matter? Is your mom—,”

“Yeah, yeah she’s fine,” Spencer said hurriedly, although that wasn’t the truth. His mother wasn’t fine. The clinical trials weren’t working out because they were getting cancelled or were already so few in number. And he was thinking of an alternative…but he couldn’t let JJ know that so decided to quickly divert the topic by saying, “I was just thinking about Anna.”

 JJ, who had been looking unconvinced till now, seemed to have bought his lie for she looked excited, a smile gracing her lips. “Oh? Things are going good?”

“Y-yeah,” Spencer gave an uneasy smile. He hated lying to his best friend but he didn’t want her or anyone involved in what he was planning. He didn’t want to worry them. They treated him like such a baby that it was exhausting. He wanted to deal with this by himself. “Yes, things are good,” he said firmly. He thought back to Anna and the time he had spent with her yesterday.

“Although…,” Spencer said squinting, “she did say that she’d kill me if I watched Netflix and chilled with anyone else. What does that mean?”

JJ only let out a bark of laughter.

 

* * *

 

“Your house tonight, right?”

“Right.”

“You’re not cancelling right?”

“Nope.”

“And you’re buying the popcorn and the pizza—,”

“Yes, and you’re getting the alcohol.”

“What movie are we watching?”

Anna gave her an exasperated look. “Don’t worry, it’s not going to be The Big Sick.”

“Hey! What’s wrong with The Big Sick?” Jane asked, popping in suddenly. She stood at the door with a whimsical smile on her face. Jane liked to pretend they were all best friends for some reasons. It had started one day suddenly and had not stopped and a year had passed by and Anna and Jae-Eun had been patient, very, very patient to no avail. Jane would keep including herself in their conversations and act as if they were all very close which left Anna and Jae-Eun no choice but to speak in Korean as much as possible to prevent any opportunity for Jane to use to come in between them. But in the flow of their conversation they had completely forgotten about using Korean and switched to English.

“We just found it boring…,” said Anna with an uneasy smile. Actually it was because of the tiresome and awful depiction of South Asian women where they were not treated as human beings but turned into caricatures for White entertainment that made her blood boil. But of course she didn’t feel at ease to tell the same to her White boss so she just smiled politely.

“Really? I thought it was such a laugh. I mean especially the marriage—,”

Anna groaned internally and blocked her out, smiling as artificially as she can as she made sure to not look at Jae-Eun, who she knew was also trying for the same. If they both looked at each other then their thoughts would become too apparent and would lead to a more uncomfortable relationship with Jane than they already presently shared. “—and then when this girl finds the photographs and she’s like—,”

“Jane!” It was as if a voice from the heavens had descended to save them from the atrocity and put an end to Jane’s word-vomit. Anna wasn’t sure if that’s the way the word was supposed to be used but Jane was using words and they were sound like vomit so she felt herself justified.

“Yeah?” Jane stopped to pull back from Anna and Jae-Eun’s cabin. The person who had called her came in view: Henrietta. Anna gave her a flying kiss and urged her with a motion of her hand to take Jane away. In response Henrietta only rolled her eyes good naturedly before she took their boss away to look at some commission problems.

 “She’s crazy,” Anna said, with a grunt.

“At least she did not start with the Jay-ayne-Jae-Eun song, I would have—,” Jae-Eun broke off to put her hands around her throat and do a motion of choking to death. Anna laughed out loud, immediately covering her mouth to muffle her chuckles.

“True,” she agreed.

“So what movie?”  Jae-Eun asked.

“Korean?” asked Anna.

“How about Indian?”

Anna raised an eyebrow. “Ooh, okay, you choose.”

* * *

 

 

“ _Hi Spencer I love you so much and I can’t wait for you to come back so we can do it a million times._ ”

“Shut up! That’s not how I sounded!” Anna groaned kicking her friend lightly in the thighs with her soles of her feet. They were both sitting on her sofa in their PJs watching a Hindi movie when Anna had gotten a call from Spencer, and although it had lasted only ten minutes, it had been enough material for Jae-Eun to make fun of her for a lifetime.

“You so did!” Her friend countered. “Look at your face, it’s so red.”

“It’s not!” Anna said crossly.

“Aw, how cute. So what was he saying?”

“That’s he’s in LA for a case right now and will be back tomorrow.”

“And that’s what made you giggle like that?”

“Yeah.”

“Wipe that smile off of you face, you look stupid.”

“Shut up.”

“So you serious?”

“I don’t know…” said Anna uneasily. Jae-Eun nodded and took a sip of her beer.

“How long have you been dating now?”

“Almost two months.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

“Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool.”

“Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool.”

“Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool,” Jae-Eun gave into chuckles.

“So why did you tell your _Indian_ friends,” Jae-Eun made a face, “that you’re not dating anyone.”

“You know why.”

“’Cause they’ll judge you?”

“Yep.”

“’Cause he’s a—,”

“YEP.”

“See, you don’t need other friends. You just need me,” Jae-Eun said giving her a wry smile.

“That’s true,” Anna returned her smile. “I want you to meet him once things get a bit more serious. He’s—he’s not like other people I’ve met. He’s not into games, or lies…he’s good and—he’s really sweet and funny and dorky.”

A pause.

“And he’s hot.”

Jae-Eun spit out the beer she had been drinking from the fit of laughter that had overtaken her. “He is _not_ ,” argued Jae-Eun. “He dresses like a librarian. Okay don’t even—,” Jae-Eun began but Anna had already said it, “A sexy librarian.”

“And he has a great voice,” Anna nodded to herself. “Like a—like one in those documentaries.”

“Ugh, you sound like a nerd," her friend groaned. 

"A sexy nerd," Anna corrected.

 

* * *

 

 

Spencer sat with his thick glasses reading a book. "Hello," he smiled as he got up to greet Anna. She was wearing a wine coloured dress with a white overcoat.

“You look nice,” Spencer said as Anna reached up to press a kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you,” Anna smiled, taking a next to him. "Have you been waiting long?"

"No," Spencer put his book away. "Only ten minutes." 

"I have the same frames for my glasses, in black," chuckled Anna taking his glasses and putting them on. “Whoa, I can't see anything babe,” gasped Anna. Spencer laughed and took his glasses back, holding them in his lap. 

“What do you want to eat?” he asked, leaning back into his chair.

“Pasta,” she said, her eyes shining. “I’m starving. Where’s the waiter?”

She saw Spencer gesture to someone and the waiter came up next to them. “Hi, can I please have bolognaise?” she turned to look at Spencer with her eyebrows raised, expectantly.

“Right, I—I want the pasta too, actually—,”

“Okay,” the waiter noted down Spencer’s order and turned to Anna again. “Ma’am, are you sure you want bolognaise? It has meat in it…”

Anna, who had been listening to him with a confused expression on her face looked to kill. “Yes.” She managed to give a tight smile.

“But it’s got beef in it. Your people..,” the waiter seemed embarrassed to complete it, only implying at it with his expression.

“My people love beef. Can you please get me what I’ve ordered?” Anna felt her eyebrow twitch in annoyance. She was a second away from blasting the white kid’s ears off but he looked too embarrassed and apologetic.

“Right. Sorry,” he mumbled. “Would you like anything to drink?”

“Only water, thank you,” Anna said, still irritable.

“Same for me,” Spencer chimed in quickly as the waiter looked like he couldn’t get away quickly. “Do you often get that?” asked Spencer though he could tell she did.

“Yes. I don’t know why everyone just assumes they know better about me than I do.”

“You know despite the misconception that Indians are vegetarian and hold cow to be holy, there’s actually a miniscule fraction—,”

“Babe,” Anna interrupted, annoyed, “Do you know what mansplaining is?”

“Uh, no,” Spencer frowned, confused. “Should I?”

“Ya might wanna look it up, hun,” said Anna in a crude imitation of the Southern American accent making Spencer smile. She smiled too, the tension leaving her body. “Babe, do you really know a lot of statistics?”

“Yeah. I _was_ hired because I’m a genius,” Spencer shrugged giving her a wry smile.

“Well, unlike the FBI I am not dating you for your mind, I am dating you for your body.”

Spencer blushed. “Well, the statistics aren’t half-bad, but don’t speak about me or my country in statistics unless I ask you. Or I will have to kill you,” Anna said smiling. She burst out laughing when Spencer gave her an alarmed look.

“How was your…erm …the case?” asked Anna after floundering for the correct word for a bit. “Did you succeed?”

“Yes, we caught the killer,” confirmed Spencer with a firm nod of his head. She could feel his big brown eyes boring into her face and wondered if he knew she did not want to know about the details. But maybe he wanted to tell her…maybe he wanted to talk about it. Like she liked to talk about her work.

“Do you…want to talk about it?” asked Anna, hesitantly.

“No I’m alright, thanks.”

When Anna let out a sigh of relief Spencer laughed. “Sorry, I’m just a bit queasy I suppose.”

“It’s good. Let’s me know you’re not a psychopath.”

“Does it get dangerous though?”

“Sometimes,” he shrugged.

“But you’re not an agent so you don’t go out in the field, right?” asked Anna as she chewed on a breadstick. “And you’re safe.”

“No, I do go out in the field.”

Anna’s eyes snapped up to his’, frowning. “But isn't that dangerous?”

“It’s alright, I’m equipped to handle such situations. I think it’s much harder to get the criminal convicted…,” said Spencer eager to put Anna’s mind at ease by distracting her. He began to relate an incident when Hotch had embarrassed the defense council in court for questioning his and BAU’s methods. Anna was soon laughing after that and then their food arrived, and though Anna would glance in his direction with concern at times, she did not say anything.

“Do you want to go back to your place?” Spencer asked. Anna shook her head.

“I want to see your apartment.”

Spencer frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “Why would I not be?”

“No reason,” Spencer quipped. Although she never said it, he knew she was scared to go to his place alone with him; it was unfamiliar and he had gotten the feeling that she didn’t trust him enough. But perhaps she was beginning to trust him…

“As long as you don’t have bodies of your ex-wives hanging from the ceiling I think we’ll be fine…,” Anna let out a nervous chuckle.

“Bluebeard,” Spencer remarked, recognizing the fairy-tale. Anna’s eyes snapped up to his’, surprise coating her features.

“You know Bluebeard?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve never met anybody who knows Bluebeard.”

Spencer smiled softly. “It used to be my favourite fairy-tale when I was a kid. I was _obsessed_ ,” Anna continued. “Freaked my classmate in fifth grade out completely because I would scribble this story aggressively in all of my notebooks.” Spencer chuckled.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Spencer’s apartment was dark. No amount of light could really illuminate it brightly, Anna felt. Spencer stood far away from her, switching on the lights, trying to gauge her reaction.

“It’s…you,” Anna said with a chuckle. And when Spencer frowned she quickly added, “It’s odd but warm.” He seemed slightly placated at that. Anna’s eyes followed the sofa set to the book shelves and the books lying everywhere. He had more books than her! She was immediately drawn to his bookshelves, cringing away from the ones which focused on physics and mathematics. “You have a lot of books,” remarked Anna, moving to stand near the bookshelves again. “I don’t know how you read all of this stuff on science and maths, I could never do it.”

“I never found it difficult. It all made sense to me among the many things that did not...” Spencer said, “I was doing Quantum physics while others were still doing long-division.” Anna thought he was being an arrogant cunt, but when she looked at him, she saw his face was impassive, his gaze trained on the books in the shelves. Anna sat down picking out books from the literature section, and felt Spencer sit next to her. He continued speaking, “And once when I posited a theory about time travel to my high school teacher, he tried to laugh it off but then I proved that it was possible and I also used it for my English paper…”

And though Anna tried to understand what he was saying, she could only pick up the meaning of a few things, the others being lost to jargon she was not trained in but she was most struck by how Spencer would not—it seemed, _could not_ —stop talking. It seemed as if he had been a well full to the brim and now spilling over with things and having wanting to say things he had not been able to all this while. Had he been holding all of this inside, she wondered? She couldn’t know the answer for she did not ask. He kept talking. The book of _Oxford Anthology of English Ballads_ lay spread open on Anna’s lap as she propped her head on her palm, resting on her thigh, as she watched Spencer talk. He wasn’t looking at her, except at intervals to check if she was listening? Or perhaps just to address her? She wasn’t sure. But apart from hasty glances, his gaze remained focus on something abstract, though it was trained on the books, his hands coming up in front of his chest as they made shapes and things out of the air to aid his explanations. He spoke for so long that a time came when Anna’s back started hurting and she chose to sit leaning against the book shelf, pulling her knees to her chest.

She listened, smiling when he did, stiffening when he did, as if becoming a mirror, a sponge; trying to understand not the words, but the language, the body, the person. It was almost like she was back in Korean class, and couldn’t understand what _exactly_ the professor was saying and had to rely on the professor’s expressions, body language and think _what is she saying, and why does this mean so much to her_? Anna turned her attention to Spencer. _What does this talking, this speech, mean to Spencer?_ It felt like Spencer was trying to get everything out of him as soon as possible for fear of Anna stopping him and though Anna wanted to chuckle and tell him to calm down, she chose to be quiet and let him have his way for she wasn’t sure how her interruption would be perceived. Perhaps as derision. Perhaps as an invitation to never speak again. And Spencer spoke and spoke, of his theses, of what had challenged him the most, the kind of people he met, the professors, his mentor—someone called Gideon, and how he came to join the BAU, all scattered with facts and statistics. When he finished, it was with a huge gasp of breath. Her eyes fell on Anna, and it seemed like it was the first time in the forty-five minutes that he had been speaking that he had realized she was _there_. She raised her eyebrows, questioningly. Was something wrong?

“I’m sorry, was that—was that a rhetorical question—back then?” he asked. Anna tilted her head, frowning, confused. “When you said you didn’t know how I understood the things I did.”

Anna smiled. “Well, I enjoyed listening to you talk.”

“No TV?” asked Anna, looking around the living room again. Spencer only shrugged.

Anna frowned as her eyes fell on a photo-frame of a white girl smiling. She had front bangs and a pretty smile Anna noted. Spencer did not say he had any siblings. “Babe, who’s this?”

She held up the photo-frame. Spencer rushed to her with a speed she did not know him to possess and snatch the photo out of her hands. She jerked back, flinching physically at the violent gesture.

“I—,” Spencer began apologetically, noticing Anna’s alarmed and scared face before it was replaced by a terrible poker face. “It’s no one.”

“Is it that girl you dated? Your _one_ …,” Anna trailed off, unable to complete.

“Yes,” Spencer sighed. She could see his fingers were white where they were clutching the photo tightly.

“Okay,” Anna said, awkward. Perhaps she should leave, she thought. She didn’t know how to handle such situations. What would Jae-Eun do? Jae-Eun would never be alone with a man, like Anna never was, and she would never _date_ a man, like Anna never had and—

“I’m sorry,” she heard Spencer say, and looked up.

“It’s—it’s alright. Why—why do you have her picture?” Anna asked. Was he still in love with her? Wasn’t it weird to have a picture of your ex and not even _hidden_ but lying there right in the living room? Did it mean—Anna was unable to complete her train of thought as she heard Spencer say, “She's—she’s—she died,” as he put the photo back where Anna had picked it from.  

Anna’s eyes widened and she felt a coldness come over her. No dead ex-wives but a dead girlfriend? She couldn’t help but remember Bluebeard. She had to calm herself down and tell herself that she was being ridiculous. It was _Spencer_ , after all.

“How did she die?”

“This girl… killed her…,” Spencer said, his eyes trained on the ground. “The girl who killed her, killed herself and Maeve together…”

 “Oh,” Anna said, a part of herself relieved and scolding herself silly for assuming Spencer was the one who had killed her—well, a girl can't be safe enough in this world—and the majority of her was just horrified.

“When was this?” Anna asked.

“Four years ago.” His voice was small and cracking with emotion. It suddenly dawned on Anna at how they both were awkwardly standing in the living room. A few feet apart. Spencer’s head bowed, staring at the ground. His shoulders were shaking. For some reason Anna couldn’t bring herself to console him. She could only wonder if he was still in love with her, if he had been using her to get over her, if he was—if he was—Anna couldn’t bear the thought. She had been through this before. She knew she wouldn’t be able to deal with this again.

“Do you still love her?” Anna found herself asking before she could stop. She knew it wasn’t polite, it wasn’t proper but she had to know so she could stop this. She couldn’t do this to herself a second time. She was not going to ignore the red flags this time she had told herself. And so she was going to ask.

She saw Spencer look up, his face mirroring the painful expression on her face. His eyes shining with unshed tears. She wanted to apologize for having asked such an intrusive question but she held firm. “She's dead,” he said. It had not been a harsh declaration but a soft defeated resigned admission. That was not a no, Anna noted disappointed.

“She's dead,” he repeated. _And I can't compete with the dead_ , Anna thought. Her heart hurt, her head hurt, her stomach hurt. She wanted to get out of here. A part of her was glad this was out now instead of later. She was not in love with him yet, she could still back out of this unhurt, unscathed. Kind of. But she’d make it alive.

“Do you?” Anna asked, swallowing the lump in her throat. Spencer remained quiet.

“I don’t know,” he finally admitted.

“What I want to know,” Anna said, closing her eyes in frustration for a second before opening them and focusing them on Spencer’s helpless frowning face, “is that—will you—ever love someone else? Or do you plan on—I mean…” Her head hurt too much for her to complete her question.

“I’d like to believe so,” Spencer said. Anna grimaced. “I like you,” he said, taking a step towards her. Anna resisted the urge to move away. She didn’t want to act like she was afraid of him. She was going to come across as brave and strong. It didn’t matter anyway for Spencer did not move closer to her. She wondered if he did so naturally or because he had noticed some change in her body language.

“I like you too,” Anna almost spat out, her eyes were trained on his feet, unable to meet his eyes, look at his stupid face she knew would make her weak. “But I don’t have a—,” she broke off, “I mean, I am not in love with somebody else.”

“I think a part of me will always love her,” he took a step towards her. “But I like you,” another step, “ _now_.” He was standing right in front of her. Anna decided that if he tried to touch her she would gut him. But he didn’t and Anna was thankful for that. She didn’t think she would be able to gut him, anyway.

“Okay,” Anna said, finally looking up at him. “I can work with that. For now. But if later—and if there is a later, I want you to be always honest with me about your feelings. If anything—serious happens between us— _if_ it does then I need you to tell me if you feel different or just—anything,” she finished lamely. But her point seemed to have reached Spencer for he nodded.

“Okay,” he promised. Anna shut her eyes. Her head really hurt a lot.

"Anna? Are you okay?” She heard Spencer say, concerned. 

"I'm fine. I—I'm just a bit tired. I didn't sleep very well last night so I think I should go get some sleep." 

"Alright, I'll show you the bedroom," Spencer said, moving away to where Anna assumed was his bedroom. She let out a snort of disbelief. But when she looked at Spencer he looked only confused. 

"You actually want—," she frowned, "I was thinking of going back to my house." 

"Oh," Spencer looked disappointed, "why?" he asked softly, his light brown eyes coming to rest on her own. 

"I have work tomorrow. I really need to sleep." 

"You can sleep here." 

"You know I mean I just want to sleep, I don't want to sleep with you." 

Spencer blinked, still looking confused. "You want to sleep separately?" 

"No," Anna said, frustrated, "I mean I don’t want to have sex.”

“Okay,” Spencer nodded. Anna watched him closely, suspicious. “Alright,” she conceded.

“I need sleepwear,” she said. “A shirt and pyjamas. I’m not going to do the whole ‘sleep in your shirt because it’s so loose on me it fits like a dress’ thing.”

“I—I don’t know what that means,” Spencer said as he moved towards what Anna assumed was his bedroom. Anna rolled her eyes, letting a smile come to her face as she followed him inside. His room was also dark, with books neatly placed on the bedside table, where the bed lamp was poised. There was a closet next to the bed from which Spencer was currently rummaging for clothes. Anna sat on the bed behind him, waiting.

“Here,” he said, handing her a moss green t-shirt and a pair of pyjamas. “Babe,” Anna said, suddenly something dawning on her. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in casual clothes. You’re always dressed in dress-shirts and coats.”

“Yeah…,” Spencer said awkwardly, tucking his hair behind his ear. Anna raised her eyebrows but didn’t say anything as she started shedding her clothes to change into the clothes Spencer had given her.

“Aren’t you going to change?” asked Anna when she noticed Spencer just standing there and staring at her.

“Yes,” he said, swallowing and he turned to start digging in the closet again.

“Babe,” Anna whined, “your pants aren’t fitting me. I am too fat. I think I should start dieting again.” She sat at the edge of the bed, with an expression of despair on her face, covering her legs with the dress she had been wearing earlier that evening.

“You’re fine,” Spencer said dismissively as he took the pair of pants from her. “ _I’m_ too skinny.”

“No you’re not,” said Anna dismissively as she watched Spencer remove his dress shirt and change into a t-shirt quickly not giving her nearly enough time to admire the planes of his back and chest. “Would you have a bigger size?” asked Anna, after he was done changing.

“No,” he shook his head. Anna pursed her lips and glanced at the sheets on the bed. She quickly got under them. “Don’t look!” she squealed. Spencer watched her, amused.

“I just _saw_ you. And I’ve _seen_ you,” he reminded her, as he folded his dress shirt and kept it inside. He began folding the dress that was abandoned on the floor when Anna had decided to hide under the sheets.

“I need to wash my face and brush my teeth,” she groaned. “Do you have a bathrobe? Give it to me,” she said even before he answered her question. He retreated into the bathroom to retrieve the bathrobe and give it to her. Anna happily wore it and went to the bathroom. After she had done what she needed to she came out and Spencer went in. When he came out, Anna was patting her face down with something, sitting cross-legged on the bed, her legs covered safely under the sheets, he noticed, amused. He saw a small round container of…cream, was it? He couldn’t read clearly as he had removed his lenses.

“Sit down,” she gestured. Anna took some cream in her fingers and stared patting his face down with it. It smelled like…

“What is that smell?”

“Sandalwood. Good, right?” Anna asked as she massaged his temples. “Close your eyes.” She gently rubbed some of it on his eyelids and beneath them. “I got it from India. You only get it there.” She rubbed his cheeks, pulling them in all directions and stopping only when Spencer opened his eyes to frown at her. “All done,” she said pecking him on the mouth softly before moving to keep all of her toiletries inside of her handbag.

When she returned, Spencer was already tucked in on his side of the bed—the right side—and Anna took off the bathrobe, throwing it at the armchair in the corner of the room—which Spencer watched with displeasure—and slid in next to him. Anna’s hands moved of their own resolve towards Spencer reaching for his palm, when they stopped, and instead reach for his wrist. She took his hand in hers and tucked it against her chest. Spencer only watched curiously, his face softening at Anna’s gesture.

“I found out what Netflix and Chill means,” he said, softly. He could see Anna was tired and slowly drifting off.  

“Yeah?” she smiled softly.

“JJ told me.”

“Mmm,” said Anna, her eyes closed. She moved in closer to him, swinging a leg over his leg. Spencer gently touched her face causing her eyes to flutter open before shutting again. He slowly rubbed her cheek before he pulled his hand from her hold. He got up to fold the bathrobe which Anna had thrown in the corner and placed it in the bathroom before he got back into bed again. Anna was fast asleep, curled up away from his side of the bed.

When he woke up, it was with a start. His heart was beating harshly and he could feel the space in the back where his shirt was stuck to his skin from the sweat. He rubbed his face sleepily. _It was just a dream_ , he told himself. And before he could even remember what it was, it escaped. What was he dreaming of? Spencer couldn’t be bothered to sit and recall for he felt something move beside him—Anna. She had been fast asleep but at the abrupt movement Spencer had made when he had woken up had broken Anna’s sleep too.

She looked at him from her sleep hooded eyes. “What are you doing babe?” she asked, her voice gruff with sleep. “Aw, were you watching me sleep? That’s so romantic,” she smiled sleepily. “Kind of creepy, but romantic,” she added, closing her eyes.

Spencer smiled, amused. “What’s the time?” Anna asked.

“It’s six.”

Anna shot up, sitting upright, startling Spencer. “I have to be at work by 9:30,” she told him.

“It’s _six_ ,” Spencer repeated as he saw Anna hurriedly make her way towards the bathroom. She seemed to have lost her consciousness about being dressed just in his shirt for she was busy scouring through the room for her things without a care in the world. He wondered why she was worried about her legs in the first place—they looked fine. Better than fine, Spencer thought as he admired them.

“Don’t you want to have breakfast together?”

Anna looked up from where she was clutching her dress to her chest at Spencer’s question. “I was hoping to swing by my place and then go to work…”

“Or, you could just stay,” Spencer said. And it was with the sincerity with which he said it that struck a chord with Anna, made her pause and consider him, his words. It had not been an effort at nonchalance—his words. Not a passing suggestion. “We could go have pancakes for breakfast at this place that’s just five minutes away. It opens in an hour,” he added. Anna watched him closely and then nodded.

“Okay,” smiled Anna. “Let me just go take a shower.”

When she had cleaned up and stepped out in the living room, ready to leave, she saw that the portrait of his ex-girlfriend wasn’t there anymore. She let out a sigh of relief even though she suspected her joy was only temporary.


End file.
